


Runaway Clint

by BookMusicLover



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, maybe no plot, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:06:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookMusicLover/pseuds/BookMusicLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven years ago, Clint Barton ran away from his adopted family. Now, he's back. Can they trust him when things go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a Beta.  
> This is my first fanfic I'm actually posting, so please go easy. Please?

Clint had been out of school for summer three days when he decided to leave. The plan was simple; he would pretend to be sick so he wouldn’t have to venture to the park with his family. Clint was tired. Of the family, of school, of life in general.

Clint spent an hour writing a letter to Nick, explaining that he just had enough of everything; how he just didn’t belong in this family. Including an apology to everyone, even to Phil. Especially to Phil, really.

The runaway then packed as much as he could into his backpack – clothes, hairbrush, and a cap that his brother Steve had given him. At least Steve seemed to have cared about him. Shaking his head, not wanting to rethink his decision to leave his family for good, he grabbed an old army jacket and ran to the woods to grab his bow and arrows. With his cherished weapon in hand, Clint ran and never looked back.

\-------------------------------- 

The rest of the family got home around three that afternoon. Clint had gone away no more than three hours prior.

“I’m gonna go check on Clint.” Steve said as they entered the house. Receiving no answer after knocking on the door, he entered. Clint wasn’t there. 

Steve checked the bathrooms and then the rest of the house becoming frantic as he checked the basement, backyard, and the attic. Nothing.

He walked into the living room, panic in his eyes. “Dad, Clint isn’t here.”

“What,” Fury asked.

“He’s not here . . . and his bag is gone,” Steve replied, the worry plain on his face. Fury got up and went to his office, grabbing the phone. While it rang, he glanced down to see a letter with his name on it, in Clint’s handwriting. He ripped it open and quickly read it.

“Sir,” he heard Coulson say on the other end. “Nick?”

Fury dropped into his chair and sighed, “Clint’s run away.”


	2. Meeting Up Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven years later . . . the family reunites.

Eleven years passed with any sign of Clint Barton. Bruce and Tony kept up their search for the missing brother, but as the years went by, the search grew less habitual. Natasha and Steve made a point of celebrating his birthday each year. Thor continued to buy Christmas presents for Clint, just like Tony.  
Nick Fury searched for Clint for seven years until he gave up hope.  
In the meantime, Steve, Tasha, and Thor joined SHIELD and became agents. Tony inherited Stark Industries, got captured, and became Iron Man. For Bruce, he accidentally became a science experiment and went on the run. Nick and Phil still worked as Director and Handler at SHIELD.

Quietly creeping across the roof of the Vienna Opera House was a man class in black. This man’s target sat inside; a rich, pompous asshole.  
The man slipped onto the balcony of an empty upstairs room and pulled out the simple black and white tux that he hid in his bag. He also slipped out the bore needle full of poison. He swiftly pulled off his gloves after pocketing the needle in his breast pocket and discarded the bag.  
He entered the hallway and made his way down the hallway to the lobby. He glances around spotting his target down the stairs and near the doors of the auditorium. On his way down the stairs, he grabbed a glass of champagne and quickly knocked it back.  
He socialized his way through the room until a redhead stopped him. “Hi there, handsome,” she said in a sultry voice. The man instantly recognized it. Natasha.  
“Sorry Love, you’re not my type,” the man said and sidestepped the agent.  
He heard Natasha scoff and then say, “Got eyes on the target; couldn’t intercept.”  
The young man smiled, by the time the man was even starting to feel the effect of the poison, he would be long gone. But if SHIELD was here for him, he’d have to play it safe.  
He stepped off to the side to switch the weapon; his ring instead of the needle.  
He started to, again, socialize his way through the throng of people at the event, playing close attention to Natasha and anyone she looked at more than once. Steven. Steve was here too. Great.  
“Roger Striker, Anthony Romanov; it’s nice to meet you,” The man said, smiling wickedly.  
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Romanov,” Roger smiled, extending his hand. Anthony, as he called himself, shook the hand, needle lightly pricking the target’s skin.  
“Ow!,” Roger exclaimed.  
“So sorry,” Anthony apologized.  
“Oh, it’s fine.” The target waved off the slight pinch of pain.  
Anthony left Roger than and moved from him, once again through the crowd.  
“Hello,” someone said as the brushed Anthony’s shoulder. It was a tall, blond man; Steve.  
“Hi,” Anthony said, moving past him, making sure to avoid eye contact, and grabbed a scotch.  
Anthony quickly left Steve behind and went into a side room, where it was crowded. Taking a moment to glance back, Anthony noticed Steve and Natasha trailing him from the other room. He knocked a tray out of the waiter’s hand which caused everyone to look around at the commotion, allowing him to slip out nearly undetected.

The crowded room opened up onto a patio, where Anthony paused for a brief moment, and then bolted. By the time Nat and Steve had made it outside, their target was on the wall that made the side lawn private from the rest of the world. Steve pointed to him and Anthony waved.  
“Side lawn, he just jumped the wall,” Anthony heard Steve say into the comm.  
Anthony jumped and then ran north, through his rise was west of the Opera House. He jogged into an alley, waiting until a thunder of feet came running past him. He made his way farther into the alleyway, checking out buildings, planning to travel over rooftops.  
“Hawkeye, stand down,” he heard a voice demand of him. He stopped . . . he hadn’t heard that voice in ages. It was the voice of the person who protected him the most, SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson, Fury’s good eye.  
“No way, Agent Coulson,” Hawkeye said, turning to face Coulson. The look on Coulson’s face was one of confusion, quickly masked by indifference. Hawkeye almost frowned. The man who he had called Uncle for years stood in front of him, and guilt was starting to wash over him.  
He should have braved the work with his family. He should have waited for Phil to speak to him instead of running off.  
“Hawkeye, stand still or I will use force.” He nodded and offered Coulson his wrists.  
“You got me. Take me away, Sheriff.” Coulson pulled out handcuffs and quickly put them tightly on his captive.  
“I’ve got Hawkeye, bringing him to extraction point.” Coulson nodded to the reply and then started to shove Anthony towards the opening of the alley.  
“So, Coulson, how’s work,” he said, smirking. Coulson gritted his teeth and just pushed the smirking asshole into a van.  
Anthony looked up to see Steve and Tasha there. “Hiya toots,” he smiled cockily as Natasha rolled her eyes.  
“Coulson, Striker just died,” Steve said and Coulson nodded.  
“Hawkeye stayed silent until they pulled him out and he saw a ship. He whistled and said, “Can I fly it? I have my license.”  
Coulson pushed him into a seat and then buckled him up.  
On the flight to wherever, an agent took his fingerprints and a sample of blood. Anthony looked back at Phil and remembered the last conversation he had with his Uncle Phil.

Eleven year old him slinked into Uncle Phil’s office at SHIELD headquarters. Phil was at his desk, probably writing up some report for Nick Fury.  
“Phil,” the boy said, causing Phil to look up.  
“Clint,” Phil said, going back to his work.  
Clint was emotionally exhausted. The family was getting on his nerves and he was bullied, again, today. Clint thought about what he’d like to say to his Uncle.  
“Can was talk, Uncle,” Clint said, he was finally going to tell someone what was going through his head.  
His uncle sighed wearily,” I’m sorry Clint, I’m busy right now. How about later?,” Phil said, grabbing his paperwork and getting up.  
The boy was torn between anger and disappointment. “Yeah . . . sure,” Clint nodded, but that later never came.

Anger coursed through his veins until he shook his head. Phil had a job, he probably meant to talk to him later, but was always busy.  
“Something wrong?,” Steve asked him and he just looked away.  
Once they landed, two agents took him to a holding cell. He walked in and sat down, steeling himself to face his family. In all truths, he was an emotional wreck.

\---------------------------------------------

Natasha, Steve, and Phil watched the two officers take Hawkeye away to a cell.  
“Fury is waiting for us,” Phil said as the three of them, headed towards the bridge of the Helicarrier.  
“How’d you get him to come so easily?” Tasha asked.  
“I don’t know,” Phil said, not yet telling anyone that Hawkeye had known his name. Or even that Hawkeye looked familiar.  
“Natasha, Steve, Phil, good job. The council is happy that we got Hawkeye,” Fury said as they entered the bridge.  
“You got the infamous marksman, Tasha, how ‘about a high-five,” Tony said and then sat down at the table.  
“He came too easily, I don’t like it,” Natasha said, her brow creasing as she sat across from Tony.  
“Do we know how he got in?” Director Fury asked.  
“A balcony on the second floor, slipped in there,” Phil answered. Phil looked over Striker’s report, Anthony Romanov.  
He knows Tasha,” Phil said, “And maybe even Tony.”  
Natasha and Tony stared at Phil and Steve asked, “How?”  
Fury looked intrigued. “The name Hawkeye gave to Striker, it was Anthony Romanov,” Phil said. Coulson noticed a junior agent and walked towards him.  
“He gave the name after my run-in at the opera. He knows me, but how . . .,” Tasha said, “I don’t remember running in to him before.”  
“And my first name, Tasha,” Tony added and Tasha nodded.

“Sir, I got the result back from the fingerprints and blood,” the agent said.  
“Who is he,” Phil demanded.  
“Clint Barton, sir.”  
Phil’s head snapped to look at the agent. “Are you sure?”  
“We triple checked, sir,” the agent responded.  
Phil nodded, “Thank you. You may go.”  
Phil walked back to the group, where Bruce and Thor had now joined.  
“Coulson,” Fury said.  
“We’ve got the results back on Hawkeye’s identity . . . and we’ve triple check them.”  
“Who is it,” Natasha asked, eager to know how this mad knew her.  
Phil took a breath then, “It’s Clint, sir. Hawkeye is twenty-two year old Clint Barton,” Phil said, coolly. Everyone just stared at him, Tony’s jaw dropping to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Tals, for putting up with my thoughts and my terrible writing habits.


	3. Talking to the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One by one, they go down to the cells to see how Clint is going.

Clint felt someone enter the room. He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Phil,” he said and saw Phil step out of the shadows.  
“You want to talk now,” Phil asked, unsure how to broach this particular conversation with this particular captive.  
Clint barked a laugh. “You’re about eleven years late, Phil.”  
Phil couldn’t help but notice the heated reply. “So, let’s talk now,” he insisted.  
Clint stood and stretched, looking over his shoulder to take a glimpse at his Uncle Phil. Clint shrugged and said, “I was exhausted, Phil. No one had time for me anymore. Not even you. I was tired from all the bullying. You though,” Clint scoffed, “You not listening to me was the last straw. I ran.” Clint shrugged and leaned on the wall of his cell,  
Clint saw Phil gulp, and again, guilt washed over him. But he knew guilt was washing over Phil too.  
“So, am I going to jail or not? I’ve killed a lot of people for a lot of money, Phil,” Clint said, knowing Phil knew about the body count.  
“That depends on of Nick can work out a deal. Now, who hired you to kill Striker, Clint?”  
Clint shook his head. “If I tell you, and he finds out, I’m dead. So, nah, I’m good.” Clint turned on his heels and went back to his bench.  
Phil nodded, knowing Clint wasn’t going to talk to him. He turned then and left the room.  
\--------------------  
Clint waited until one of them came. He knew they would all come, one by one, to visit. He didn’t see Natasha, but he knew she was in the room.  
“How are you,” he heard a voice ask, all gravelly, ask from his left.  
Clint smiled, “Definitely been better; how about you?”  
Natasha came into view and pulled up a chair. She sat down across from the cell, fifteen feet from Clint with glass between them. Clint smiled at her, and she smiled back.  
“You missed out graduations, kinda rude of you,” Tasha said and Clint chuckled.  
“I did see Tony and Bruce in October of -06. I was on a job; saw them at MIT,” Clint said and Tasha nodded.  
“I remember Tony coming home, freaked out he saw baby brother Clint.”  
Clint smirked. “So, you joined SHIELD and I became the villain,” Clint muttered.  
“Best friends become enemies, sounds like a teen novel,” Tasha said and Clint chuckled.  
“We’ll write the story later . . . or you might have to.”  
Tasha arched an eyebrow. “Fury hasn’t gotten back to you?”  
“Phil said Fury’s trying to get me a deal, so at least I don’t die,” Clint answered.  
“I’m not letting you go to jail Clint . . . but you left.”  
Clint pressed his lips into a firm line and his body tensed. They were finally going to stop with the small-talk and get to business.  
“You guys never had time for me,” Clint responded somewhat bitterly.  
“Clint . . . there were six of us,” Tasha tried to mask her pleading tone.  
“I was the youngest, the smallest; nobody wanted to deal with me. Thor and Steve pushed me away due to sports and girls. Tony and Bruce had . . . science!” He waved his hands, “Nick and Phil had work and you had . . . whatever,” Clint seethed. “No time for me! I was beaten, picked on; I needed someone to talk to!” He ended in a yell.  
Tasha froze, seeing past all her and his anger, and saw the scared eleven year old boy she remembered. “Clint, we were all dealing with something. “I’m sorry,” Tasha said. Clint looked at her and then looked away.  
Tasha stood and left, whispering ‘Goodbye’ as she left the room.  
\-------------------------------  
Nobody had come to visit Clint on his cell for hours. He had been huddled in the corner of the small room, his dinner untouched.  
He was half asleep when, “I heard only guilty sleep in prison.”  
Clint turned towards the voice and smiled. "Haven’t you heard? I am guilty.” He said as he said up. Tony nodded as he leaned against the railing.  
“So, Anthony Romanov, that’s just weird,” Tony said, shaking his head, and Clint’s eyes glinted with amusement.  
The captive looked away, staring at the wall as he said, “I saw you and Bruce a few years ago.”  
Tony gritted his teeth. “So, I was right.” Trying to keep his anger in check. "You scared the shit outta me, Clint.” Tony said, his voice was tight. A silence fell over the room.  
Breaking the tension, Clint nodded at his brother. “Nice beard, it’s sexy.” Tony gritted his teeth, once again, but nodded in acknowledgment. He scratched his chin.  
“How does Pepper feel about it? You still with her?”  
“Yes, I am. And she thinks it’s sexy, too.” Tony answered easily, silently thinking about strangling his bastard brother for acting as if nothing had happened between them.  
Once again an uncomfortable silence fell over the two. “Clint . . . where’ve you been for these past few years?” Tony asked quietly, looking away from his brother.  
Clint could see the desperation in Tony’s eyes, but just shrugged. “Places.”  
Tony nodded in resignation and Clint turned to face him. “Tony, I’m not telling you anything. So, run along back to Fury. Though . . . it was nice seeing you again.”  
Tony sighed and waved goodbye. “See ya later, Clint.”  
\----------------------------------------  
It was half past one in the morning when Clint’s next visitor showed up. “I couldn’t sleep because of this whole deal.” Steve explained, sitting down in the chair Natasha had sat in earlier.  
“I was asleep,” Clint grumbled, rubbing his eyes.  
“Well, we lost a lot of sleep due to you; so you can lose some sleep over this.  
“You left, you were eleven Clint. What the hell did you do these past eleven years? You scared the shit out of all of us. Dad was worried sick that the police would find you, face-downed in some ditch!” Steve practically screamed at Clint. “Why?”  
Clint looked at Steve and plainly said, “I was tired, Steve.”  
Steve groaned, exasperated. “So you talk to us, Clint. Jesus, y-you make it so you’re heard!” He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair, and began pacing, You don’t just run away leaving your family scared for years, not knowing how you were, if you were alive, if you weren’t, how’d you die. I’m telling you, not knowing those things in the worst things you could’ve done to us.”  
Steve stopped mid-stride, leaned his elbows on the railing and rested his head in his hands. Clint sat up and the two brothers, or whatever they were now, stared at each other.  
“I tried talking to you, Steve.” Clint explained quietly, “I tried Tony, Bruce, Thor, Tasha, Fury, and even Phil. None of you had time for me. For months, you didn’t have the time,” Clint informed Steve.  
Steve nodded, his jaw clenched. “You could have written to us later. You wouldn’t have had to put a return address on it. That, at the very least, might have given us some peace. I know I would have slept better.  
“Did you know Tasha, strongest person I know, had nightmares after you left? Tony kept thinking he saw you know and then, he thought he was going insane. We felt horrible.” Steve said and Clint felt the guilt rushing at him, it felt like getting hit by a semi-truck.  
Clint looked at Steve, truly looked. He had bags under his eyes from years of restless sleep. His hair was a mess, not it’s usual nicely combed style.  
Clint swallowed his need for crying and just nodded at Steve. Steve thought for a moment, he got everything he needed to say out. “It’s great to see you Clint. You’re taller than me and Thor now.” Steve chuckled. “Night Clint.”  
Steve left Clint alone to drown in his feelings. For the first time in years, Clint cried because of his family. He cried for the pain he caused them, the worry and the fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May be a bit until next chapter. Sorry :(


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for being late. My beta was out of town with no internet. And school has started up again for me, so I'll be busy with that. But I'll try posting on weekends.  
> Sorry. :(

Clint woke up and felt an itching for a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in what felt like years.. He looked around and saw a camera in the corner of the room. “What does it take for a man to get a smoke?!”   
Clint sighed and stood up and paced around the circular cell.   
Twenty minutes later and Clint was wringing his hands together, trying to calm himself down. He really did need to stop smoking but he enjoyed it a bit too much.   
From behind him he heard a gruff “There you go.” Clint turned to see Fury toss a box of matches and a pack of cigarettes dropped into the room. The captive ignored Fury and lit a cigarette.   
Clint inhaled and sighed. He shook the match so it died out and then sat down. “What does the council say?” Clint asked, looking up at Fury.   
“You can either go to jail or have an ankle bracelet until we figure out the rest,” Fury admitted to Clint.  
Clint nodded, taking a breath of the cigarette, and he leaned back. “What’s with the eyepatch?” Clint wondered aloud.   
“An incident.”  
“So . . . the ankle bracelet. Does this bracelet come with a given house or apartment for you to track me?” Clint asked, tapping the cigarette against the seat.  
“Stark Tower.”   
Clint glared at Fury. “No way in hell. Has Tony agreed to housing me?”  
“He has, he’s not the happiest, but he will.”  
Clint nodded and looked around. “Can I go for a walk, or do I have to stay inside? I promise I won’t piss on anything important,” Clint promised Fury, smiling wickedly.   
Fury looked at the two guards and nodded.   
When Fury was near the door, the door opened and Clint ventured out.   
\------------------------------------------------------------------  
Clint walked a few feet in front of the guards and Fury, looking around the place.  
“How long have you had her?” Clint inquired.   
“A few years now, Clint. Turn left up ahead,” Fury advised him.  
Clint stopped when he got the the crossroads of the two hallways and looked down both routes. Left seemed dull, and so did straight ahead, but the right, on the other hand...  
Clint turned on his heels, smiled at Fury, and walked right.  
He followed that hallway until he got to a set of doors and strode inside.  
The moment he entered through the doors, everyone stopped and looked at him, confused and worried. “Hiya,” Clint said, waving, as he walked to the main console of the bridge.  
He looked up to see a vibrant redhead staring at him and he smiled. He looked back at the consoles and started to put two and two together. “Does it get tiring moving to see all the screens, cause god . . . I’m tired already.”   
When Fury didn’t say anything, Clint looked around for the exit. He saw Natasha glance at another door and he crept towards it.  
Clint followed the directions outward until he was standing on the tarmac, breathing in the fresh sea breeze. God, did he love the smell of the ocean.  
“So, will you live at Tony’s or do we have to send you to jail, Clinton?” Fury asked after a few moments.  
Clint looked around, thinking how easily it would be to just run and jump off the side. But to put the family through losing him all over again...would that be right? Clint sighed, turned around and nodded. “I can’t wait for my ankle jewelry,” he said, sarcastically, pulling out another cigarette out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its late again. School and a huge migraine. Sorry  
> Totally forgot about disclaimer: I own nothing unfortunately. I am quite sad about that.

Clint was standing in the corner of the elevator with Natasha, Steve, and Fury, after having just gotten back from getting fitted for an ankle monitor. He’d started humming ‘Enter Sandman’ by Metallica. Slowly, everyone present turned to stare at him. “Sorry.” Clint mumbled.  
The doors opened,following his train of companions, Clint stepped out into a large open room. “Jeez Stark,” he whispered and Tasha looked at him.  
“Clint, your room is down the hall,” Steve said as Natasha pulled him towards his new living space.  
“See? No jail time,” Tasha mumbled halfway to the room. Clint nodded, looking around the silver hall.  
“Yeah...I guess this is better. Does Tony even have a colour scheme or is it just silver and grey?” Clint asked. Natasha shrugged.  
“The living room is mostly warm colors.” Tasha told him, opening his bedroom door. “You’ll have access to the kitchen, living room, balcony, library, and pool, and gym. The ankle monitor is waterproof.”  
“Not the range. Y’know...for archery?” Clint asked. He had the very overwhelming urge to shoot something.  
“Not until SHIELD deems your safe,” Natasha replied.  
“Right . . . cause I’m the baddie here,” Clint scoffed. “Can you leave, Tasha? I’m kinda tired and the bench wasn’t that comfortable to sleep on.”  
She nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly as she let herself out.  
Clint fell onto the bed, kicking off his shoes. His head rested on a pillow as he quickly let the darkness take him. 

\---------------------------

He woke several hours later with a scream caught in his throat. How he hated those dreams. Looking over to his nightstand, he read the time on his alarm clock. Two thirty in the morning.  
As Clint leaned over the side of the bed, he noticed a bag placed just inside the room. Standing up, he went to investigate - apparently Tasha had brought him a change of clothes while he’d been asleep.  
Clint showered and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. He ventured out into the one large space that contained the living room, kitchen, and ????(i changed this and immediately forgot what was written so whatever fucking fuck i guess)  
After Clint grabbed a slice of pizza, he sat down on the couch and put his left ankle up onto the coffee table. He just glared at the ankle monitor, slowly chewing his pizza, while trying to figure out to remove the piece of shit.  
“I made it, so . . . don’t bother trying to get it off,” he heard Tony advise from behind him. “Thanks,” Clint mumbled.  
“Why are you up? Last I heard, Natasha said you were out cold,” Tony inquired.  
“Woke up,” Clint stated . Tony nodded, not asking his brother to elaborate, but knowing that there was a reason he’d woken up at this early hour of the morning.  
“Why’d you need a tower?” Clint asked loudly, abruptly changing the subject. “ I mean, really?”  
“Why not?” Tony replied.  
“I’m going to the pool,” Clint said, standing up, he could see Tony nod from the corner of his eye.

\---------------------

Instead of the pool though, he ended up in the gym. Clint looked around and saw weights in the corner. He quickly calculated how much weight would be needed, and then went on his way to find a screwdriver.  
He'd decided to run. His family would hurt again, no doubt, but Clint couldn't stand to be around them. It had not yet been forty-eight hours and he was already pissed at them.  
Not even fifteen minutes later, Clint was hiding the ankle jewelry under his bed, and he was slipping into the stairwell.  
He rushed down the stairs and into the back hallway, using the back entrance as his getaway. The moment the door opened, he ran and didn’t look back.  
The assassin finally took a deep breath when he was six blocks west. He leaned back against a hard, brick wall and looked around. Clint knew that he could get help from an ally if he headed towards Hell’s Kitchen. He would have called another but he left his money at Tony’s tower.  
He sighed and headed north as he tried to remember his friend’s address.  
It was another twenty minutes of mostly getting lost when he was knocking on the apartment door. “Matt, I know you’re in there,” Clint called out.  
The door opened on a familiar face, eyes concealed behind red tinted sunglasses. “Clint,” Matthew Murdock said, smiling.  
“You got a couch I can borrow? Or maybe a bed?” Clint asked, walking in behind his friend, who was on his way to the living room.  
“You can have the bed. How long are you staying this time?”  
“Just the night, Mattie. Don’t worry, the cops won’t come knocking down the door. They don’t even know that I know you,” Clint informed Matt as he walked into the kitchen, looking for a beer.  
“Second shelf, near the back,” Matt said . Clint chuckled.  
“So, Clint, who are you running from now?” His friend asked, sitting down on the couch with his head cocked to one side.  
“The past,” was all Clint said keeping his eyes trained on the beer clutched in his hands.. Matt nodded and the two fell into a familiar, comfortable silence, for which Clint was grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you want to. I would love comments.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Clint really stay away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooo . . . school got in the way. I know, I'm a bad author. I'm sorry. Forgive me?

Clint woke up to Matt making breakfast. He groaned as he stretched, and padded into the kitchen.  
“So, will this past be knocking on my door?” Matt asked as Clint searched his cabinets for a coffee mug.  
“Possibly, I’m not entirely sure. It depends on if they find me while I’m here.” Matt nodded.  
“You smell rich. Why?”  
Clint chuckled, “Thank the guy I was with earlier.”  
Matt nodded and left Clint to his own accord, leaving the apartment. 

Throughout the course of the day, Clint went to the numerous small hidey-holes he had planted around the city, gathering money, weapons, and clothes for his travels away.  
Yes, he was hurting his family, but he needed to think of himself. Keep thinking of himself. He’d been doing that since he left the family, eleven years ago. He’d been doing that at Carson’s Circus and during the time he was a merc.  
Clint grabbed a duffel bag from Matt’s closet, he’d buy him a new one later, and threw everything he’d gathered inside. Going through his stash of fake passports, he selected the Australian one, Chris Roberts.He went through the few passports he had made earlier and chose the Australian one, Chris Roberts.  
He stopped before making his departure, choosing to leave Matt a voice message,. "Hey, Matt...uh just wanted to say a quick thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll see you around. I owe you one. Bye.saying thanks and see ya around." Clint threw his black leather jacket on, hefted his bag over one shoulder, and trudged out the door.

He was three blocks north when he heard a scream. He whipped his head around, just in time to get thrown on his back thanks to an explosion.  
He sat up a few moments later, dazed and heat scorching his face. Down he block, he saw a figure in red, white, and blue, with a shield fighting back an assailant.  
“Brilliant,” Clint said, getting to his feet and staggering towards a nearby building. He may not want to see his family, but he didn’t want them to die.  
Sighing, he pulled out his bow and quiver, full of his trick arrows, as he took the elevator to the top floor and ran to the roof.  
As Clint walked across the gravel roof, he threw his duffel bag down and knocked an arrow back, quickly shooting a robot that was sneaking up behind Steve. “Idiot,” Clint muttered, as he watched his older brother look around, confused. 

He scanned the ground and and took note of Natasha resisting what looked to be three robots, but it seemed she had a handle on them. Thor was a block south of her with Hulk rampaging and generally - smashing every crawling enemy in the surrounding area, as he was wants to do. Clint continued to looked around, but he didn’t see Iron Man anywhere.  
“Where are you Tony,” Clint wondered aloud, shooting another arrow into a robot near Nat.

He watched as she froze, comprehension briefly dawning on her face and looked for the only archer that could’ve been helping her.  
“Not now, Tasha,” he said as he let another arrow fly , hitting a robot, she’d missed while she was distracted.  
A flash of red sped passed him Clint, looked like Tony was finally joining in on the party. He saw Iron Man blast a few robots and then turned to blast fire at a few more. Clint r more arrows fly, hitting robots trying to attack Steve, and Tony noticed something.  
“It’s got to be Clint,” he read Steve’s lips.  
He looked at Tony’s face mask, it was up, and read, “He’s gone, Steve. He’s miles away and he left us behind, again. Stop trying to think of him as the prodigal brother. He left then and he left again.” When Tony finished his rant, his face mask fell down again and he blasted two robots.  
Clint ignored Tony from then on, hitting robots near Natasha, watching her back. Clint For a moment he thought he saw Tasha smiling, when he used an explosion arrow. Had Tasha learned to love death and destruction? Who knows. 

Twenty minutes later, Clint noticed that the fight had died down.  
“Clint, put the bow and quiver down.” He heard Coulson say. The archer sighed and set it down, raising his arms into the air as he turned around. “Hey Coulson,” he smiled at the older agent, who was not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you liked it. Please comments. Comments make me write faster actually, so yeah
> 
> I'm thinking of writing a flashback chapter soon. If you have anything requests, please comment them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the update. Between school and a nasty chest cold, and my beta not being able to check this, it took a bit. Sorry again.

Coulson led Clint to the elevator, with another agent carrying Clint’s bag and weapons.   
“Be careful,” Clint advised, “Some might explode.”   
The agent’s eye went wide and Coulson glared at Clint. “Really Clint?”   
What, they may and I don’t want my guts splattered on the walls of the elevator Coulson. Sorry if that makes you unhappy.” Clint admitted.

In the street, where Coulson was escorting Clint, who was handcuffed, to a black SHIELD SUV, Clint saw his old family standing around. Natasha was sitting on steps to a building, with Steve next to her. Bruce was shaking, coming off his ‘adrenaline high’. Thor was standing, just staring into space while Tony was walking towards them, with an undamaged arrow shaft in his hands.  
“Hey, can I have that back. It’ll still work,” Clint called out, causing them to look at him.   
“I told you it was Clint,” Steve snarked at Tony and Tony rolled his eyes.   
Clint pulled away from Coulson, who quickly followed him, no emotion showing.   
“I want it back, it’s mine,” Clint said, grabbing the shaft from Tony.   
“How’d they explode?” Tony asked as he kept his grip on it.   
“My secrets are my secrets Tony, leave it be and give me back my arrow.”   
“No,” Tony said, yanking the shaft out of Clint’s hands.   
Clint glared at Tony, and before Tony said anything, Steve stepped in.   
“Thanks Clint. You saved us a few times.”   
Clint nodded and said, “I want my arrow back. It’ll still work.” Clint glanced at Tony and then walked to the black SUV SHIELD had waiting for him. 

Coulson took the handcuffs off Clint when Clint stood in a jail cell at the New York SHIELD headquarters.   
Clint rubbed his wrists, the cuffs were a bit too tight. He sat down on a bench, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He was surely going to go to jail now since he had run. Or would someone fight for him, again?   
Clint thought about all the things that happened within the past four days and how his family just appeared.   
An hour passed and he rolled his head to the side, opening his eyes, when he heard footsteps coming his way. Steve.   
After a minute of the two brothers staring at each other, Steve sighed. “Where were you in the fight? You were obviously on roof, but what building?”   
“The one with James, James, & James law firm in it,” Clint admitted, stretching his arms.   
“How’d you hit something near Thor if you were that far away?”   
“I have the best aim in the world, Steven. Haven’t you learned that?”   
Steve nodded, “I’m going to honest, I’m still having trouble seeing my little brother as the great assassin, Hawkeye. I still see that scrawny little kid with one hell of a temper.”  
“That was awhile ago Steven, things have changed. Tasha used to hate working with others, now, she’s part of a group.”   
Steve nodded, and leaned against the railing of the cell wall. “Clint, I have an offer for you. It’ll leave you out of jail, and you don’t have to live at the Tower unless you want to.”  
Clint looked back at Steve, interested. “What’s the offer, Steven?”  
“You become part of the team. You can live on your own, but you’ll have to check in on a regular basis. You’ll train with us, go on jobs when we do, that’s it. You have twenty-four hours to think this over before the deals off the table and you head straight to a maximum security jail.”  
Steve stood up straight, nodded at his little brother, and then left the room.  
Jail or work with the family. To be honest, it was a hard decision for Clint. Jail would mean no freedom, but no family except if they want to come up for a visit. Working with the family meant seeing them on a daily basis, but he could live on own with regular check ins.   
Clint sighed in frustration, he hated this deal. He was also itching for a smoke. “Guard! Someone!” Clint yelled out, but no answer. “Oh come on, one fucking smoke! It won’t kill you.” 

As Clint yelled for another cigarette, the team met with Coulson in the large conference room. They group was spaced out. Tony sat at the table near the exit with Steve diagonal from him. Bruce sat on the other side of the room, calming down. Thor stood in the middle of the room, towards the wall, leaning against it. Tasha leaned on the window sill, staring out the window. Coulson stood near Tony, looking at the group of kids that he watched grow up.  
“I offered him the deal, he was hesitant about it. He didn’t say anything, but I could see it,” Steve said.   
“I don’t think Clint will take it. He doesn’t like us, he despises us,” Tasha commented and Steve sighed.   
“I’m hoping that that isn’t the case, Tasha,” Steve said.  
“Does Clint really hate us that much?” Bruce asked, since he hadn’t actually seen his baby brother, except for those few minutes when he wanted his arrow back.   
“Oh yeah,” Tony said, looking at Bruce. “He doesn’t want one thing to do with us.”   
“How do you know?” Thor chimed in, “He helped us.”   
“Whatever he wants, he’ll tell us or will get sent to jail for the dozens he’s killed over the years,” Coulson said, and everyone nodded.  
Steve looked up at the monitor, where Clint looked pissed. He shook his head and decided to talk to his brother.

Steve handed Clint a lighter and pack of smokes, and Clint smiled. “Thanks,” Clint said, pulling one out and lighting it.   
“So, you took pity on me for a cig?” Clint asked, exhaling smoke as he spoke.   
“No,” was all Steve said.  
Clint nodded and thought about the choice now. “I can either go to jail and only see you guys if you come up to visit. Or I can work with you, see you almost every day and live on my own, but I would have to check in on a regular basis.”  
Steve nodded, pulling a chair up to sit across his brother. “I know which one I would choose, but I’m not you Clint. And as you said before, you’ve changed a lot since we were young. You’re not a little kid anymore. It’s your choice.”  
Clint nodded. “I want an apartment in Brooklyn, and I don’t want a nice, squishy one that Tony would get.”   
Steve nodded, smiling. “I’ll tell Fury and the Council.”  
Steve stood up, still smiling like a madman and Clint went back to his own head, smoking while thinking about getting the arrow back from Tony. It would still work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, Kudos please

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my "mother" Tals for being my beta and dealing with my weird thoughts.


End file.
